


hazy shade of winter

by breathplayed



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 03:16:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13137942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathplayed/pseuds/breathplayed
Summary: A blizzard ruins all of Stan's perfectly made plans, trapping them in Orono instead of in Derry, where the rest of their friends are celebrating the season. To make things worse, he and Richie have to share a tiny room in a filthy motel.Richie is, unsurprisingly, very okay with this.





	hazy shade of winter

**Author's Note:**

> sorry i have no excuse for this i just wanted to write a holiday themed fic of stozier having sex. but this is... not holiday themed at all and way more filthy than i planned. again i am so sorry.
> 
> i think i tagged everything i needed to but please let me know if something is missing. i wrote this literally in like 5 hours so if there are any major errors i am so sorry.
> 
> also i hc them as attending the university of maine which is in orono, maine jsyk!! they're about 20 in this

“This is your fault,” Stan stated flatly staring through the windshield at the flurry of snow in front of them. Richie swore under his breath, tapping the steering wheel anxiously. The newsman on the radio continued to talk in a slow drawl: _“...reports say it’s to be the biggest snowstorm of the month. I sure hope you folks don’t need anywhere to be…”_

 

Stan fiddled idly with the heater, twisting the knob to calm himself from the wave of annoyance and anxiety that washed over him. Stan obviously didn’t celebrate Christmas but the Losers always gathered at the Denbrough house back in Derry to be together for the season. Richie and Stan both had work related things so the rest of the group had left before them while they stayed at their apartment by campus. The plan had been to leave early in the morning on the 23rd but of course Richie prevented that from happening. He slept in past the alarm clocks Stan prepared for him, spent an hour packing because he’d forgotten to the night before, and coaxed Stan into taking a “sexy shower” with him so by the time their car was packed and ready to go, it was around 4pm.

 

They’d only been driving for maybe thirty minutes when large snowflakes starting to fall on the windshield. Richie laughed it off, saying that it shouldn’t last long but once they turned towards the highway they were stopped by a long line of cars, clearly all stuck. Stan had wordlessly turned on the radio station to hear news of the biggest snowstorm of the year, about to hit Orono in the next hour.

 

So now there was no way they were going to back it to Derry today. Stan wasn’t even sure if the storm would let up by tomorrow morning, judging by what the news said. So Richie made a very risky turn and headed back on the road to their apartment.

 

The silence in the car was suffocating.

 

“Come on babe,” Richie wheedled, looking over at Stan with a pout. “Don’t be mad, I can do a lot of things, but I can’t control the weather!”

 

Stan didn’t even give him a cursory glance. “We were supposed to leave six hours ago. _Six hours_ , Richard.”

 

Richie winced at the use of his full name. “Aw Stanny I’m sorry but you know I can’t resist you in the morning - “ He reached out towards Stan only to have his hand slapped away.

 

“Don’t touch me,” Stan replied shortly. “Keep driving.”

 

“Alright, professor,” Richie mumbled under his breath. There really wasn’t much to do but let Stan stew in his annoyance and hopefully Richie would be able to make it up to him with some grand romantic gesture back at the apartment.

 

Alas, that plan died right as it formed, the engine letting out a pathetic sputter, the car slowing down as it came to a stop. Richie and Stan just stared at the dashboard for a moment, completely speechless.

 

“Richie,” Stan said in a deceptively calm voice. “Did you remember to take the car in for maintenance last week?”

 

Richie let out a loud groan, slamming his forehead against the steering wheel. “Fuck,” he muttered. His head pressed against the horn, the noise ringing in a depressingly loud way.

 

* * *

 

Stan didn’t yell at him once which was a measure of how mad he actually was. He tried calling Triple A and failed - the line disconnecting every time. Stan let out a colorful string of swears at his phone and Richie looked over from where he had the hood popped open with a grin.

 

“Don’t,” Stan snapped when he opened his mouth, presumably to make a vulgar comment. Richie mimed zipping his lips and put his hands up defensively.

 

An hour of standing outside in the cold was enough to make Stan start to freak out, all of Richie’s attempts to jumpstart the car failing. “Oh god, do we have to push it all the way back to our apartment?” he asked through chattering teeth. Richie shrugged off his coat and draped it over his shoulders. “Richie, my hands are frozen! I can’t push with frozen hands!”

 

“Baby, please calm down,” Richie said in a soothing tone. “Look, nobody is gonna drive through here - we can leave the car here and walk to a motel.” Stan let out a distressed squawk, and Richie petted his hair with his gloves. “Come on, Staniel let’s get cracking.”

 

Richie made sure to lock up the car completely, grabbing his duffle bag while Stan struggled with his suitcase. “Jesus princess, how much did you pack?”

 

“I am _not_ talking to you,” Stan hissed. With Richie’s huge coat dwarfing his frame and the tip of his nose bright red, Richie couldn’t help but squeal inside his head. His boyfriend was so cute! “This is all your fault!” Stan slammed the trunk shut and shuffled away. Richie looked up to the sky, squinting at the descending snowflakes, before following his angry man.

  


The receptionist had not been amused when Stan asked for two rooms. Well, more like demanded for them. Stan’s usual polite nature sort of dissolved whenever he was in a bad mood. “One,” she replied blandly, not even looking at them. “A single.”

 

Stan bristled. This was surely the shittiest motel he’d ever been in, tiny and cramped, with the “Vacancy” sign’s light dying out. It was already killing him that he’d have to spend the night in his filth but he wouldn’t even be able to have his own bed?  “Surely there are other rooms - “ he started hotly but Richie covered his mouth quickly.

 

“We’ll take the room,” he said cheerfully, ignoring Stan’s glare. He handed over his credit card, grabbed the keys, and picked up Stan’s suitcase before the other man could argue. As funny as it had been to watch Stan hobble through the snow with that thing, Richie was tired of this and wanted out of the doghouse already.

 

Stan freed himself from Richie’s hold, grabbed the keys, stomped ahead up the stairs to their room, not even giving Richie a second glance. Richie sighed to himself. “I hate to see him go but I love to watch him leave,” he said wistfully to the receptionist. She gave him the most judging stare he’d ever encountered from a stranger, including the time he dabbed in public from Eddie and Bill’s prompting. “Right. I’m going now.”

 

When he entered the room, Stan was predictably taking a shower. He needed something habitual to ground him and the hot water was probably doing wonders for the stress in his shoulders. Richie carefully put the suitcase and bag on the side of the bed and sat down on the chair, not wanting to disrupt the room and bother Stan any further.

 

He opened up his contacts, pressing the call button on Big Bill Denbrough. Bill picked up after two rings, _“R-Richie? Please don’t tell me you’re stuck in the storm.”_

 

Richie winced. “Yeah bud. We’re definitely not making it tonight.” He heard Eddie shouting something in the background. “We ran a little late and the highway was already impossible to get into.”

 

Bill sighed. “ _Th-that’s fine I’m glad you’re safe. S-Stay warm okay?”_ There was the sound of shuffling and soon Bill’s soft voice was replaced with Eddie’s loud one. “ _What the hell Tozier? Weren’t you supposed to leave this morning?”_

 

Richie groaned. “Don’t start Eds, I’ve already gotten the silent treatment and lecture from Stan.”

 

_“Uh, probably because it’s your fault you’re still stuck in Orono!”_

 

Well, Eddie had him there. “Give Haystack, Bev and Mike my love. Not sure if Stan is gonna murder me in my sleep or not.”

 

_“Oh man, I can’t believe I’m gonna miss that.”_

 

“Piss off Spaghetti man,” Richie ended the conversation cheerfully, leaning back on the chair with a sigh. Minutes later, the bathroom door opened, a copious amount of steam coming out along with wet Stan, a towel wrapped gingerly around his waist. Richie tried not to gawk.

 

Stan’s cheeks were red. “Can you get me my bathrobe,” he muttered quietly and Richie practically tripped over his feet as he got up to open Stan’s suitcase, passing him his baby blue terry cloth robe. Stan thanked him quietly, pulling the towel away to slide his robe on, and this time Richie couldn’t resist the wolf whistle that left him. It was automatic when it came to Stan, Richie didn’t have a filter for the way his body reacted to his boyfriend.

 

But he could see that Stan’s shoulders were much more relaxed and his face wasn’t as angry as before. Richie walked over to him cautiously, placing a hand on Stan’s waist. He nearly wept with relief when he felt Stan lean into his touch. “Stan, I am really _really_ sorry about today. I swear, I wasn’t trying to be an asshole. I’m just useless.”

 

Stan exhaled softly, bumping Richie’s hip with his. “I know that, dumbass.” Richie snorted. “It’s fine. There’s nothing we can do about it and I know the storm isn’t your fault. It just… sucks that nothing went according to plan today.”

 

Ah, sweet forgiveness. Richie wrapped his arms around Stan’s waist and Stan let him swing him around a couple of times before tapping his forearm in an impatient gesture to stop. “Don’t worry about that Stanny! We can still have fun! Let’s watch a terrible Christmas movie and eat junk food.”

 

Stan laughed. “What junk food? Did the lobby have a store I didn’t see?”

 

Richie grinned. “Vending machines!”

 

Stan burst into a peal of giggles that Richie so adored and he scooped him up and peppered kisses all over his face until Stan was shrieking for him to put him down. “Okay my love, you,” he pointed at Stan’s chest for emphasis, “get all pretty for me and I will go get our snacks.”

 

Stan rolled his eyes, but his fond expression negated any annoyance. “Alright, trashmouth. Get me something sweet. I deserve it.”

 

Richie leered. “Oh I’ll give you something sweet alright - “

 

“Beep beep, Richie.”

 

“Yessir.”

 

So that’s where they found themselves an hour later, Stan in Richie’s lap with the blanket wrapped around the two of them, a pile of junk food on the table in front of them while a poor quality of Home Alone played on the small tv. A definite improvement from the mess of this morning.

 

“These parents are so stupid,” Stan sniffed. “How can you forget your kid?”

 

“Suspend your belief Stanny,” Richie laughed in his ear. “Otherwise you won’t be able to enjoy things.”

 

“Oh yeah, Mr. Film Buff?” Stan poked at Richie’s cheek. “If you ask me, the industry could do with more realistic takes in their movies.”

 

“And that’s why you’re in accounting babe.” Richie squealed when Stan moved his fingers to his side, poking him relentlessly. “Stop it, stop it! I’m ticklish you little shit - “ Richie let out a roar and squeezed Stan’s waist, throwing himself backwards on the bed. Stan started laughing into his chest and Richie ran his hands through his soft curls, down his back. Stan lifted his head to look at him, lips quirked in a small smile, and Richie couldn’t help but tug him closer, pressing his lips to his. Stan returned the kiss eagerly, wrapping his arms around Richie’s neck. Richie hummed into the kiss, sliding one hand up Stan’s shirt to touch the soft skin of his back.

 

Stan pulled away with a shiver. “Hey,” he started, trying to sound stern but betrayed by the tremor in his voice. “I’m still kind of mad, you know. There’s no way I’m gonna put out tonight.”

 

Richie gaped at him. “Are you serious? Come on babe, I’ve always wanted to have hotel room sex.”

 

Stan’s nose scrunched up. Adorably, so of course Richie had to kiss it. “That’s disgusting,” Stan got out through Richie’s kisses. “Do you know how many people probably had sex here? How gross this bed must be? Oh god, I need to get off.”

 

“I’ll get you off,” Richie teased, pushing down gently so that Stan was more firmly pressed against his body. Stan’s eyelashes fluttered, his breath hitching lightly and Richie felt his dick begin to stir at the sight. “God, you’re pretty,” he sighed, cupping Stan’s cheek and rubbing the angular line of his jaw. Stan let out a soft moan. “So pretty, baby, come here - “

 

And at that moment, the lights flickered twice before going out, the TV shutting down along with it. Stan and Richie blinked at each other in the darkness.

 

“Did the power just - “

 

“Go out? Yes.” Stan sounded tired and Richie rubbed a soothing hand on his back.

 

“Hey hey, it’s okay babe,” Richie assured him, cursing the blackout for messing with Stan’s peace of mind. “It’s like what, nine? We can just lay in bed and make out.”

 

“Richie if the power is out then the heater is out too,” Stan explained with some exasperation. “With this storm, we’re going to be freezing.”

 

“Oh.” Richie hummed, tugging Stan down so that he was tucked securely against his side. “Don’t worry, Staniel, I can think of a few ways to warm us up.”

 

He couldn’t see Stan’s eye roll but he knew he was doing it. “Don’t you joke around.”

 

“Me? Joke?” Richie’s pitched his voice high. “Why darling, I’m always serious.”

 

“Who was that supposed to be?”

 

“Teen girl living in Britain who isn’t taken seriously by her boyfriend.”

 

“Wow,” Stan drawled out. “That might be your most accurate voice to date.”

 

Richie slid down, pulling Stan’s shirt up so that he could blow a raspberry on his stomach. Stan let out the most horrified shriek and promptly kicked Richie off the bed.

 

“You die tonight, Tozier.”

 

“Shame I couldn’t taste your sweet ass one last time, Uris.”

 

Stan scrambled on the bed for a pillow which he threw blindly in what he thought was Richie’s direction. Richie cackled out loud and rolled out of the way. “You missed! Try again, sharpshooter!” he mocked in a ridiculous Western cowboy accent. Stan threw the remaining pillows until Richie ended it by tackling him onto the bed again. He easily overpowered Stan, pinning his thin wrists to the mattress with a wicked grin.

 

“Surrender,” he whispered, leaning in to brush a kiss against Stan’s mouth. Stan sighed into the kiss, pushing his body upwards in one sensuous move. Richie moaned out loud and rocked his hips down against him. “That’s unfair,” he whined as Stan hooked his ankles around his back. “Tease. Minx,” he gasped against Stan’s mouth as Stan rubbed against him slowly. He closes his eyes as all the blood rushed south, ready to just rip the clothes off from Stan’s body, and help himself to his lithe body.

 

Then, Stan abruptly rolled out from under him and Richie collapsed onto the bed with a pained cry, his cock twitching in agony. “Warmed up enough, Richie?” Stan asked, breathless and smug.

 

Richie let out a muffled groan. “I hate you so much.”

 

“Love you too.”

 

They put on their warmest sweaters and socks before climbing back into bed, Richie wrapping his arms around Stan’s waist and Stan resting his head right under his chin, the blankets tucked around them tightly. “Hopefully we don’t die of hypothermia in our sleep,” Stan mumbled sleepily. Richie pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

 

“Don’t worry so much, Stan the Man.”

 

* * *

 

Richie woke up to something freezing on his stomach, Stan rolled away from him, shivering in a tight ball. “Oh Jesus, Stan is that your foot?” he croaked, leaning down to grab the foot in question. Stan was so _cold_. He ran his fingers down Stan’s arms, frowning at the chilled skin. “Baby, you’re freezing.”

 

“I have low circulation, asshole,” Stan mumbled back. “We can’t all be human heaters like you.”

 

Richie rubbed hands up and down Stan’s arms, trying to massage warmth back into his body. It didn’t help that the hotel blankets weren’t as warm as the quilts and fleeces they had back home and they didn’t have anything else that could warm Stan up. “Better?”

 

“Mmm,” Stan sighed, creeping closer. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist, their pelvises cradled together. Richie swallowed. “I’m warm with you.”

 

“Then stay close,” Richie didn’t mean for that to come out as husky as it did but he felt Stan shift against him in response. Richie moved a hand up Stan’s sweater - holy shit how many layers was he wearing? - to palm at his stomach, Stan inhaling sharply at the touch. “Stan - come on - “ Richie begged.

 

“Richie no,” Stan hissed back even as his legs tightened unconsciously around his waist. Richie rolled his hips against his and Stan let out a whine. “It’s f-freezing I refuse to be naked - “

 

“You can keep your sweater on,” Richie growled, leaning in to kiss his neck, sucking a mark into the sensitive junction between his neck and collarbone, making Stan keen. “Come on baby, I’ll warm you right up.”

 

Stan bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as his resolve crumbled.

 

So that’s how Stan found himself flat on his back, a fresh towel beneath him, his pajama pants discarded somewhere on the ground, his sweater hiked up to reveal his nipples, as Richie slowly fucked him with two lubed fingers. His cock was bobbing heavily above his stomach, his hips twitching with every thrust of Richie’s fingers inside him.

 

And he hated to say it but he felt hot, his skin burning from the inside out, the heavy sensation of arousal searing his blood. “Richie,” he croaked in a soft voice. “Richie, that’s enough, just fuck me already - “

 

Richie shook his head. “Uh huh.” It was dark, but Richie had turned up the brightness on his phone on the nightstand so he was just barely able to discern Stan’s delicate features as they twisted in pleasure. “I can’t see you, so I gotta make sure I hear you.” He emphasized this by curling his fingers upward towards Stan’s prostate and Stan threw his head back with a muted cry.

 

_“Richie!”_

 

“That’s my name, _please_ wear it out,” Richie murmured back, pulling his fingers out to drizzle more lube, adding a third finger to stretch Stan out with. It was such a shame he couldn’t see it, the divine, lewd sight of Stan’s pink puckered hole stretched over his fingers. It was one of Richie’s favorite sights. But the filthy sound of lube squelching every time he fucked his fingers into him, was enough for his balls to ache, desperate to bury himself in Stan’s tight heat. “God, Stan you’re so tight. You sure you’re ready for my cock?”

 

“Stop talking to me like I’m a virgin, asshole!” Stan cried out, humping his hips up mindlessly along with Richie’s movements. “Just - put it in - “

 

“Yeah?” Richie drawled, using his free hand to push Stan’s thigh up, spreading him more. “Is that what you want baby? You want more?”

 

“Yes,” Stan hissed. “Give me more.” Only to cry out in frustration when Richie simply slid a fourth finger into him. “ _Oh my fucking god._ ”

 

“Usually I get to see how well you take me,” Richie said casually, as if he was not currently driving Stan crazy with his fingers, rubbing persistently at his prostate. “I get to see your pretty ass swallow my cock like you’re aching for it - and you _are_ aching for it, aren’t you Stan?” Stan couldn’t speak, too overwhelmed. “Of course you are. But you know, it’s dark, I gotta make sure I don’t hurt you. Gotta make sure you’re nice and open for me.”

 

Stan let out a broken little noise, pushing down on Richie’s fingers in jerky, little movements. “Fuck you, fuck you,” he moaned. “Oh god, I hate you.” Richie spread his fingers inside Stan, so that they were stretching his ass thoroughly and Stan howled as he came, spurting all over his stomach. It had been too much, all the tension in his body snapping from the merciless way Richie fingered his ass.

 

Richie blinked, surprised for one moment. “Holy shit, Staniel, I thought I was the only one worked up.” Stan covered his face with his hands. His cheeks were so hot, his body was on fire. “You’re so cute, Stan, so sensitive.” Richie pulled his hands away so that he could kiss his heated cheeks. “Still want me to fuck you?” he asked carefully, all traces of teasing gone, wanting to get the okay.

 

Stan blinked tears out of his eyes and nodded. Richie grinned, smug and filthy. “Use your words Stan. Tell me.”

 

“Fuck. Me. Asshat.” Stan forced through gritted teeth. He hated how Richie got, all mouthy and teasing, pushing Stan to the edge. He hated how much he loved it, even more.

 

Richie laughed in his face, capturing his mouth in a heated kiss. Stan bit at his lip and Richie growled, tugging Stan’s head back with his hair, the kiss turning aggressive. At one point Stan just opened his mouth, letting Richie thoroughly claim him with his tongue, the kiss making Stan’s toes curl and his head swim.

 

He whined when Richie pulled away and Richie tenderly stroked his cheek with his thumb. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll take care of you,” he cooed. He pushed Stan on his back again and left for a moment, presumably to get a condom. Stan’s cum was drying uncomfortably on his stomach but he was too worked up to care at the moment. He needed Richie inside him and he wasn’t going to let anything distract him from it.

 

Richie came back to him, dressed only in his T-shirt, hard cock jutting out proudly. Stan held up his thighs and spread them invitingly, enjoying the way Richie muttered an awed “ _Fuck, Stan_ ” at the sight.

 

The crackle of the condom wrapper opening made Stan’s hole twitch in anticipation and he hissed when Richie circled his rim with his fingers. “If you think you’re going to finger me again, you’re out of your damn mind.”

 

Richie hummed. “Good things come to those who wait,” he quoted sagely as he rolled the condom onto his dick. Stan huffed with annoyance.

 

“I don’t want to hear that from you of all people - _ahh_!” Stan’s words were cut off as soon as Richie lined his cock at his hole and pushed in with one smooth movement. “Richie, ahh fuck Richie,” Stan gasped at how Richie filled him up, his cock thick and heavy inside him.

 

“Yeah baby,” Richie moaned back in a ragged voice. “You feel so damn good. My pretty baby.” Stan’s fingernails dug crescents into his thighs as he weakly held them up, body moving roughly against the towel in time with Richie’s thrusts. He rocked into Stan slowly, moving so that he bottomed out with every thrust, pressed snugly against Stan’s prostate before dragging out completely. It was a maddening rhythm, building heated pressure in Stan slowly, muted painful pleasure igniting through his entire body. It was like Richie was being considerate of his oversensitivity but also completely disregarding it, his hands coming to cup Stan’s ass and lift him up from the bed so that he could fuck into him at a better angle.

 

Stan doesn’t know how long this goes on for. The slow deliberate way Richie’s cock kept sinking into him, the loud sound of it filing the air, was driving him insane. Richie, on the other hand, was loving it. Stan kept letting out these sweet little noises, not quite moans not quite sobs, that turned Richie on beyond belief as he squirmed prettily on his cock. “You’re so pretty,” he said again, voice uneven. “You’re so good, baby, so good for me. I love how tight you are, how perfect you feel.”

 

Stan let out a wretched little noise at his words, clenching so tight around Richie, he had to stop for a moment to collect himself. “You’re not trying to fuck me, you’re trying to kill me,” Stan accused wildly, his words slurring together. Stan got so cute when he was all fucked out, mouth sweetly slack and tight body unraveling. And with only the dim light from the cell phone highlighting his features, it felt all the more raunchy and intimate.

 

Richie hummed, continuing to fuck into Stan at his slow pace. It was driving him insane too, the urge to grip Stan’s hips and pound him into the mattress building with every thrust into Stan’s perfect heat, every sexy little noise that came out of Stan’s mouth.

 

But just a little more. Just a little more.

 

“Necrophilia isn’t my kink, Stanley,” Richie murmured back.

 

Stan whined hoarsely. “Richie come on. Stop it.” He started grinding down on Richie’s dick, desperate for more friction. “Stop going so fucking slow.” It was a demand but came out as a plea and Richie felt satisfaction swell in his chest at so thoroughly wrecking his boyfriend.

 

At that moment, Richie slammed into Stan in one hard thrust making Stan cry out in surprised pleasure, his hold on his thighs slipping completely. Richie pushed as deep as he could into Stan, buried to the hilt, running soothing hands down Stan’s trembling sides. “What’s wrong with slow, Stanny?” he teased back. “I wanna fuck you for hours, take you apart, split that pretty ass open.” His cock twitched violently inside Stan just at the thought and Stan started to writhe against him when he realized that Richie had stopped moving completely, trapping him against the bed with his body weight and cock stuffed completely in his ass.

 

“Richie,” Stan gasped, sounding completely shattered. “Richie, _move_.”

 

Richie leaned down so that his forehead was pressed against Stan’s, their sweaty curls tangling together, and moved his hips in the tiniest motion possible. Stan sobbed, desperately moving his hips. Richie kissed him soundly, staying absolutely still.

 

“Please,” Stan cried when Richie pulled away. “ _Pleasepleaseplease_.”

 

“Please what, baby?” Richie mumbled back, unable to resist snapping his hips forward. His own patience was wearing thin, wanting to chase his desire to let go and just fuck Stan the way he wanted. “What do you want?”

 

Stan let out a strangled noise. “You! You! Just - _fuck me_ please oh my god Richie please - “

 

And that’s all Richie needed. He pulled up, grabbing one of Stan’s thin legs and bring it up. “Brace yourself,” he warned before he started to slam into Stan properly, the wet sound of his balls slapping against the back of Stan’s thighs filling the room. Stan let out a series of loud keens and high pitched moans, body completely limp and just taking every single one of Richie’s powerful thrusts. Richie groaned out loud at the obscene image Stan painted, his body trembling with the force of how Richie fucked him, his hard cock bouncing against his stomach.

 

At one point, Richie dropped Stan’s leg and spread his legs as far as he could go, angling his thrusts at Stan’s sensitive prostate. Stan screamed his name, arching his back and spreading his legs even further. “God damn,” Richie hissed, gripping Stan’s hips tight enough to bruise, mindlessly pumping his cock into Stan over and over. “God damn, Stan you are so good.”

 

“Gonna come,” Stan gasped, his hand coming to rub weakly over his sensitive cock. “Oh god, I’m gonna come - “

 

“Yeah, come for me,” Richie groaned out, feeling Stan start to tighten around him. “You feel so good baby, so tight, so hot, let go Stan, let go - “

 

A few well aimed thrusts and Stan came again with Richie deep inside him, body shaking with his orgasm. “Richie,” he wailed, throwing his head back. “ _Richie Richie Richie._ ”

 

“Oh god, Stan,” Richie choked out. He continued to fuck into Stan with uneven thrusts, chasing his orgasm. Stan mewled with every movement, his body completely limp against Richie. “You’re so perfect Stan, so fucking filthy. I love the way you let me fuck you, I love you so fucking much - “

 

Richie groaned as he finally came into the condom, collapsing on top of Stan’s body. Stan let out a moan at the added weight, his body still trembling from his own orgasm, hypersensitive and heated. Richie lied there for a few moments, before getting up with a grunt, kissing Stan sweetly. Stan closed his eyes as Richie slipped the condom off and disposed of it, grabbing the spare towel to wipe himself down.

 

He came back to Stan with a grin, his glasses hanging askew on his face. “All warmed up, Uris?” he asked cheerfully. Stan simply flipped him off.

 

Instead of wiping him with the towel like he expected, Richie dipped his fingers in the pool of cum on Stan’s stomach. “Hey Stanny, looks like you had a white Christmas eh?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Eh? Get it?”

 

Stan groaned with disgust. “Oh my god, you are the worst,” he snapped pushing weakly at Richie. “I cannot believe I continue to let you put your stupid dick into my body.”

 

Richie burst into laughter. “Should I remind you of what just happened five minutes ago? Give me an hour Stan and I think I could get it up - “

 

“Get the fuck away from me.” Stan continued to grumble as Richie lovingly wiped down the sweat, cum, and lube from his body, dressed him in his layers again, adding his oversized hoodie to the mix. He did take the water bottle Richie offered him with grace, looking over at him with a sigh.

 

“Thank you Rich,” he murmured tenderly. Richie brightened up immediately. “But for the record, you are a serious pain in my ass.”

 

Stan regretted his words immediately, wishing he could take them back as Richie whooped with delight. “Yowza! Stan the Man leaves the fight with a severe ass injury!” he boomed in his announcer voice. “Will he ever bottom again? Find out, next week!”

 

“At this rate? _Never again._ ”

 

Richie continued to laugh even when he tucked the sheets around them and tugged a sulky Stan right back into his arms. He pressed tiny affectionate kisses all over Stan’s face until Stan caved, turning around to face him. He stroked Richie’s curls, scratching at his scalp, Richie leaning into the touch like a deprived dog. Stan’s body still felt raw and fucked out, and tomorrow it was going to be a bitch to walk in the snow, but his heart was full and his Trashmouth was beside him, warm and solid and real. Plus, he knew if he asked, Richie would gladly bridal carry him to the car. Not that Stan would do something so humiliating in the first place. But it was the thought that counted.

 

He took off Richie’s glass, because the fool always forgot after sex, and put them aside on the nightstand. Just as he curled up into the most comfortable position, Richie’s steady heartbeat about to soothe him to sleep, Richie opened his mouth yet again: “Hey, do you think the receptionist heard you?”

 

“Good night, Richie.”

 

“Like you were loud tonight. You know that, right Stan?”

 

“My offer of murder is still up.”

 

Richie snickered into his curls. Stan rolled his eyes. He was truly dating an infant. “I love you Stanley.”

 

“I love you too,” Stan said, blushing a little, remembering how Richie groaned his declaration during sex. “But if you don’t go to sleep I swear to god I will ruin you.”

 

Another snicker. “Just like I ruined your - “

 

“Beep. Beep.”

 

“Yessir.”

**Author's Note:**

> richie: stan your christmas present is this DICK  
> stan: I'M JEWISH YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE
> 
> also please consider this as a christmas present to all my readers/supporters of untouched since i keep constantly cockblocking stozier there. love you all!!


End file.
